Lawless
by ceasare
Summary: Sarah Livsey, analyst for Heinz & Heinz Inc. is tasked with delivering something for her Mexican client. This sparks a gang war in the island of sin, Brockton. Now she has to survive and find a way to get herself and the Undersiders out of the mess.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I - Awakening**

Sarah Livsey wakes up drenched in sweat. Her nose wrinkles at the smell of tobacco ashes in the air, and the cold has seeped in through her window. Droplets form on its dirty surface. She stretches her limbs, angling her body in unusual directions. Bones pop and muscles groan and Sarah lets a satisfied sigh escape her lips.

She picks up her phone. Two new voice mails, she ignores them.

A warm shower later, and Sarah is nursing a cup of coffee in her tiny kitchen. She tries to think about her day ahead, but it was difficult. Everything is foggy, much like the last five years had been. She wonders if her parents would have be proud of her. Then she snorts.

 _A Livsey scamming everyone to get ahead in life? For shame!_

He father's sneers and Reggie's — her brother — crestfallen face... She dreamed about it again.

 _So the patient walks into the office, "Doctor I need help, " he says. The Doctor looks back, a funny look in his eyes and a smile on his face — too many teeth — and sits on a chair next to the patient._

" _What seems to be the problem?" The doctor asks._

" _Doc, I can't be happy. No matter what I do, I can't be happy. I can't laugh!"_

 _The doctor keeps smiling, "That's easy!" his voice rumbles, "Go down to the Boardwalk, there's a clown there called Pagliacci, he tells the funniest jokes!"_

 _Sarah is watching the byplay in her sleep. She wants to wake up._

 _Wake up!_

 _But then — as always — the patient's face morphes, and Reggie, crestfallen, is looking at the doctor, a noose appears on his neck. "But doctor…" he says, "I am Pagliacci."_

Sarah shivers at the memory of a dream. Her stomach feels dense, and she wants to hurl again but forces her sandwich to stay. Sometimes she's the doctor. Sometimes it's her father.

She stands up. Tired already. But she has to go to work, has to get her bag ready. The trip is going to be long and dangerous, but after she manages to finish she can go back home. To her routine. Drink herself to sleep and hope. Hope, that next week will be better.

Boston stinks.

It's filled with people, fifteen million of them. Refugees from back then. Came here after half of the east coast was wrecked. Gold Morning still haunting the memories of the adults who remember it. Sarah looks around as she walks, her shoes echo a tattoo of noise as she makes her way to the Ferry. She's wearing black slacks that stop a bit beyond her ankles and a white high collared shirt. A slim black and white tie rests between her chest.

She likes the look, because it makes her look as old as her papers she forged. And most people don't care to ask twice if she's really in her thirties. 'You don't look it', they often compliment.

The seat by the docks is uncomfortable, rigid and too narrow. A burly man sits on one side, and a frail elderly lady on the other. Sarah has no room to spread her arms and awkwardly settles in a weird position. She checks her handbag. It's mostly empty. Some papers from work, a USB she has to deliver as a favor to her boss, Mr. Simmons. She wonders what's inside, and decides that a look wouldn't hurt.

The Ferry is late anyway, and so she opens up a small laptop, and loads the data from the stick. It's password protected but that doesn't phase her. Her power hums with approval in her mind, like an eager puppy it starts throwing suggestions about possible combinations. Fifteen minutes later she is fuming. The password was generated by some Tinkertech contraption, impossible to find without a seed.

She checks the encryption next, and is delighted that it's just normal old software. The hex dump reveals metadata — scrambled with asymmetric encryption, but follows normal protocols. She almost laughs, but the man next to her groans in irritation and so she makes herself focus on the screen. Another couple of minutes, and her password works, she opens the first folder.

She's about to open one of the documents when the Ferry arrives, and the cacophony of people trying to get in distracts her. She copies all the files to her hard drive, and then pockets the USB as she tries to go inside.

Once she finds an empty cabin, she slides the door open. Some beer cans are haphazardly thrown on the floor, and some of the liquid has escaped on the linoleum floor. Sarah wrinkles her nose but sits nevertheless. Her laptop on her knees when she opens the first file.

Sarah reads the first few lines, her power soaring as she connects information and extrapolates new information. She wants to hurl again, and this time she doesn't catch herself and pukes all over the floor. Other passengers, smoking outside shoot her a disgusted look and give her a wide berth when she slides the door open.

She walks to the back of the ship, it's mostly empty. Her hands grip on the edge or the protective handles, and her fingers shake as she pulls out a cigarette. It takes her three tries until she manages to light the smoke, and Sarah draws a deep inhale, her lungs groan but the nicotine steadies her a little.

Her cell phone displays the two voicemails again, and this time she picks up to hear them.

"Good morning Sarah, sorry for the extra task, I just didn't expect to get sick at such an important juncture in the project — didn't have the time to… Anyway — Listen, it's really important that you find Mr. Gonzales and give him the stick as soon as you arrive in Mexico City. It's the only copy OK? Anyway, have a nice trip and again… Sorry."

While the message plays, Sarah's power connects invisible dots.

She drops her phone and starts laughing. Simmons didn't expect her to live through the week. He felt guilty, but not guilty enough to stop Heinz & Heinz from working with Gesellschaft. Not guilty enough to refuse selling out American soil to warlords.

Her laugh doesn't subside, but there are sobs there too. Her power lets her know that someone will meet her once she's in New York, and once they get the stick. She will…

She will die.

Almost an hour passes and Sarah is sitting on the deck, her tears have dried out and the situation stopped being funny. Her emotions cycled through the entire spectrum and subsided on calm anger as she tries to think of a way to escape. She can feel a migraine coming, but the pain is good. It means she is still alive, and then a faint sound kicks her power into overdrive, a ship in the distance.

' _Military - Stolen - Pirates? Yes. Objective, unknown yet. Hired by Heinz & Heinz? No. Affiliations? Possible objectives? Data? Yes. Parahumans? Yes. Me? Likely. Who? Pirates._

She tries to redirect it.

' _Pirates working for who? Criminal organizations. - Where? Grand Line - Pirates chasing me for information and my powers. They know? Yes. No. Probably. Against H &H? Likely. - Pirates chasing me for information to be used against H&H and to use my powers? Yes. '_

She forces the doors shut and staggers to her feet. A plan forms in her mind and a sly grin on her lips as she paces.

"I can do this, " she murmurs to herself.

Sarah's blood is boiling in her veins. Her heart is going to explode out of her chest and she is sweating. The pirates board the ship. Everyone is on the floor as they brandish their guns. They are looking for someone, but her power tells her that it isn't her. She is confused.

The black man was huge. At least six feet and wide like a fridge. He's wearing sun glasses even though there's fog all around and he eyes the passengers. Eventually he sighs and lights a cigarette, "Listen up! We aren't going to hurt you. We are looking for a man. Blonde, pale, and short about yay tall," he points at his chest with his palm. Sarah's power tells her he means about five foot six. He goes on, "Name is Simmons."

Her breath hitches in her throat. They didn't know? No they didn't it. Simmons knew something like this would happen. He played Heinz & Heinz into working with the Cartels. And someone got the information along the way…

Sarah's brain is overheating, the migraine starts settling in and she's in pain. Pinpricks and needles stab at her senses and she's shaking. She only mildly recognizes the barrel of a gun touching her temple. Her eyes roam up to her soon to be executioner.

Brown glossy eyes, framed by brown dark curly hair and pale skin. There's no compassion there, only a mild sort of amusement as the woman grins a toothy smile, "Hey Grue!" The woman screams at the black man, "She knows something! Time to talk little mouse…" She taunts.

Sarah's mouth flapped like a fish as she tried to find the words. How did she know? Thinker? No. Normal.

Sarah licked her lips, she needed a reason for them to keep her alive.

"You can't kill me," she whispers and then shudders when a bullet wheezes right past her ear. The brunette is grinning, pearly teeth almost glisten.

The woman crouched next to her ear, her whisper easy to hear relaxed. "The next time you tell me what I can't do? I'll give you a second asshole. You understand?"

Sarah gives a frantic nod. Her neck bobbing automatically. The man — Grue — walks up to them, "Skitter, what the fuck? What did I tell you about civilians?"

Skitter rolls her eyes and points at Sarah with her gun again, "She recognized the target, I say we kneecap the bitch so she starts singing."

Grue doesn't move and contemplates her words, "There's no need for that. Miss...?"

Sarah doesn't answer, she's frozen at the realization that these people can't be talked with. They'll kill her if she says something wrong, and her power doesn't cooperate. For the first time in her life, she's abused her power too much, pulled too much information too quickly. And everything is drumming, an ominous beat of bullets and death. The man pokes her forehead with his own gun and startles her. "What's your name Miss?" He crouches next to her.

She nods, "Sa-Sarah. My names Sarah! Please — Please don't…" Skitter clicks her tongue and cocks her gun.

"Grue, what the fuck are you doing?"

He stares Skitter down and she walks away from them after a long winded stare down. Then he turns to her again, "Listen. We need to find this Simmon's man. He has something we need. Once we have it, we can leave and you will have some adventures to talk about once you make it back home. "

He looks confused when she laughs. An acerbic deranged giggle escapes her throat, "I can give you what you look for but only if you promise not to kill me." She gambles. The man seems to be reasonable, she can do this.

Grue nods, "Ok then, talk."

Sarah slowly pulls out the stick, she shows him before putting it in his hand, "Simmons set me up. He said it was a stupid little," She throws a look at Skitter who is fuming ten feet away from them. Sarah lowers her voice, "He said it was some vital info. It's heavily password protected." She winces when the last words leave her mouth. Sarah always suspected that her big mouth would get her killed, and looks away when the man's eyes light up in realization.

He nods, "We don't care about that. We only need the stick. This is the stick right? I'll find you if you fuck me over with this." He threatens.

Sarah sighs in relief and nods.

"Alright folks, listen up! You see our boat down there? It has a torpedo launcher on it. You will sit here for half an hour and then you are free to do whatever, if you follow us we will sink the ship. Ok?" Nods and murmurs echo around the ferry and Sarah can breathe again. The man jumps over the rails and lands in his own ship and Sarah slumps on the damp floor.

She made it out!

And then Skitter who was about to jump over turns to look at her. A grin on her lips, savage, like an animal her eyes thin. Like a cat playing with her food.

Sarah's breath hitches again, "Did you think it would be so easy little mouse?"

Everything goes dark for Sarah.

"Tell me Sarah baby girl. Did you think, even for one moment that you could help him? You found it funny didn't you? That Reggie was struggling."

"Dad no! I didn't know!"

"Of course you didn't know baby girl. You're just a kid. If you had told us, we would have helped him. Rex would be alive now!"

A slap on wet cheeks.

Pain.

Nightmares.

And then she floats in space. It goes hazy. Everything is foggy.

She has forgotten something important, only sneers and crestfallen faces await when Sarah wakes up. Only this time everything makes sense. And everything is ugly. Disgusting.

Dad fucked Mom on the table. He came right where her plate with old eggs and disgusting bacon lays. They didn't use protection because they want another kid. A kid that isn't a fuck up like Reggie and her.

Sarah hurls, and her mom is looking startled at her. Her dad's sneer turns into a calculating look. As if he is looking at stocks.

 _He is suspecting._ Her power tells her.

That same night, Sarah escapes through her window. Her heart beats lighter the farther away she gets from home. A hopeful feeling rises in her chest when she sees the sun rising.

Sarah wakes up on a stiff couch. She doesn't open her eyes and keeps breathing lightly as she focuses on the sounds around her. There's typing on a keyboard, and silent arguing whispers. In the background she can hear a familiar engine, and the boat she's on bumps on waves. A lulling rhythm that makes her want to fall asleep again. The migraine has subsided and she clamps on her power. Hard.

"What were you thinking, Taylor?" Grue whispers.

Skitter sounds annoyed and angry. Her whisper is more of a breathy shout, "I'm thinking that twenty K is too little for assaulting shit in American waters! So what if we can get some chump change from her company? They trusted her with the stick didn't they?"

There's a giggle from the other side of the room. Grue sighs. He's also annoyed at the situation, "Oh? And are you going to call the U.S to make an exchange? Or her company? Are you going to drop her off?"

Skitter growls like a wounded animal, "Then sell her to Mister K! She's hot ain't she?"

"Taylor you know I can't do that."

"Of course. Mister high and mighty decides to get a consciousness when it comes to hookers and kids!" She taunts.

Sarah's eyes widen. She'd rather die. Unprompted she jumps off the couch and tries run. In the corner of her eyes she sees them looking at her with confusion. There's a thick steel door blocking her and she struggles to turn the latch. It doesn't give, it will not budge.

Sarah turns around to look at them. Grue is rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses. Skitter is snorting with thinly veiled laughter and on the right another feminine looking man is sitting on a chair staring at her with amusement.

Realization dawns on her. They know she can't escape. Sarah slides down the door and clutches her head. She tries to stop the sobbing but her eyes don't heed her wishes and fat tears roll down her cheeks.

Skitter – Taylor – clicks her tongue in annoyance and kicks the table in front of her. In the blink of a second she has pulled a fat silver gun from her side holter and is point it at Sarah, "You know what? Fuck it!" She screams and Sarah watches slack eyed as the trigger pulls and bullets start raining on her.

She tries to cover her face, and contorts sideways to give the bullets less space to find purchase. There's commotion but Sarah doesn't dare to open her eyes and stays cringed on the floor.

"No shooting in the ship, god damn it!"

Taylor has trouble breathing and Sarah finally opens her eyes. Grue has her in a headlock, the gun fallen on the floor.

"I get it Brian."

"You get what?"

"I shouldn't have taken her, ok? You happy now?"

Grue – Brian – nods. He walks up to Sarah and offers her a smoke, "Come on. Let's get out for some air." She can't do anything other than bob her head in agreement. Her power hums despite herself, _she aimed to kill,_ it said. Sarah has nothing left in her stomach to hurl.

He grabs the latch and turns it clockwise. She blushes when she realizes that she tried to open the door wrong, "It's for situations were people board the boat to attack," he whispers and the duo of psychopaths cackles as Sarah ascends to the deck.

Sarah lights her cigarette. Shaky hands and jitters. A deep gulp of smoke enters her lungs and she settles down a little as she lays on a corner. The sun is dawning, and the sky all around her is a deep orange. The weather is mild, and her power tells her she's closing in to the Grand line.

International waters.

No one would come for her, "What is going to happen to me?" She murmurs.

Grue is laying next to her. Arms behind his head and the cigarette burning," We'll contact your company and set up an exchange point."

"It will go on record. I'm fucked."

"For what it's worth, I tried to give you a chance. You seemed scared that something was waiting at the end of the line…" he prompts her.

"They'd either kill me, or get me to Mexico and then kill me. At first I thought that if you took me, I'd have more time." She admits.

"So the line wasn't an accident? About you cracking the code?"

"It was. I changed my mind once the psycho shot at me. The first time I mean. Doesn't matter I guess."

"For what it's worth, we are delivery boys. Only we sometimes break the rules to put food on the table. If all goes right, you'll be back in Kansas by the end of the week." He tossed the butt in the water and walked back inside.

The fact that he didn't apologize for his crewmates doesn't escape her notice. She knows that he wouldn't lose sleep if she had died down there. She realizes that this is some sort of rapid Stockholm Syndrome taking place, but she doesn't care. Grue is her life line right now and she calms down a little. The last few hours replay in her mind's eye as she lights another cigarette.

A blonde heavily built woman stares at the island called Brockton. Her life had been a disappointment unto itself. The emergence of Parahumans; her battalion's fight at Ellisburg and the subsequent destruction caused by Scion. It all weighed heavily on her shoulders. Her greatest fears had been realized, and now humanity was broken up in fiefdoms led by parahumans.

Ah, she wanted to give up. When her country abandoned her. When her city was lost and became the cesspit of anarchy that it now was.

Director Piggot's veins thrummed with memories of death, the adrenaline kicking in her stomach. Glorious combat, and lives lost. Bullets raining all around her and Nilbog's monsters cackling like hyenas.

All for a people that didn't appreciate it. Her troops found her, gave her a purpose. And in that purpose she felt alive again.

Calvert was scheming. When wasn't he?

But it would blow up in his face this time. She laughs, amused. Mixing the cartels in her powderkeg of a city was a bad move. A move inspired by overconfidence in his shitty power. Heinz & Heinz's attempt to enter the underworld went awry, and now she could expand influence into the mainland.

Her phone ringed and she hastily picked it up, "What do you have for me Grue?"

His voice was deep for a young man, and she smiled at the information, "Very good. I love efficient work, boy. Keep it up. Jeremy will be waiting will come pick you up at Somer's for the exchange. Also don't worry about Calvert. I'll handle it."

The line clicked and she punched a number to call. The voice was soft this time, elegant almost, "You have a traitor in your midst." She spoke.

"Oh? Do tell Director."

Piggot smiled, "Yes. The Simmons boy…"

"I see. You'll handle it?"

"Yes."

Sarah sits in a bar. Guns litter every table, and a rowdy atmosphere suffocates her. There is laughter and everything smells of sweat and gunpowder. On her way to Somer's Rock she saw drug dealers peddling openly on the streets. Street urchins pick pocketed wallets. People fought, prostitutes cat called every passerby.

Brockton. It used to be a bay on the shore of eastern U.S, now it was an island surrounded by hundreds of miles of water in every direction. The buildings in the outermost layers looked dilapidated. Like slums. The deeper into the city you looked, the condition got better and better, with a skyscraper in the middle.

Whoever said that Vegas was the city of sin, obviously hadn't seen Brockton. Everything smelled of sex and blood to Sarah's nostrils.

And now she was here. In a shitty bar surrounded by shitty people. Her life line skittered away to deliver the stick...

She nurses her beer, sips slowly. The taste reminds her of unwanted memories and the liquid swirls in her glass.

Sarah looks at Skitter-Taylor. The woman looks mellow now. The eyes wide, and Sarah can see her features better now that there isn't a gun pointed at her face. Wide mouth and thin lips. Her ears protrude from her bushy hair and if Sarah didn't know better she'd call the girl awkward. Toned muscles, exaggerated by the slightly longer limbs. Her thighs were like a marathon runner's and she checked with her power if the woman was a parahuman afterall.

Nothing changed there. A normal, albeit too fit, human.

Regent ( _call me Alec!)_ poked her shoulder and she turned around to look at him. He was built like a model. Feminine even, curly black hair and black eyes staring at her with that uncomfortable smile.

"So where are you from?" She asked.

"Quebec."

"Really?" She asks, "how did you guys meet? Quebec is a bit far away from here isn't it?"

He chuckled, "Well. Dad was a grade A asshole. I kinda hacked into the C.I.A wanted list and slapped his face and location. Turns out, Uncle Sam cares more about a hacker than Heartbreaker." He sneers.

"And then yours truly introduced Papa Heartbreaker to .50 cal sniper rifle." Skitter interrupted and cackled at Sarah's wide-eyed look.

"That was you!?" She asked.

Taylor took a gulp of her whiskey and nodded, "Of course I missed, but Heartbreaker won't be walking any time soon. Probably shits in a bag or something." The group snickered.

"How come you were Quebec?" Sarah asks despite herself.

Taylor looks confused, "What? It was here. Alec ran all the way here with a stolen car and fifty bucks in cash. When Heartbreaker arrived the gangs posted a bounty on him. Man…" Her eyes glaze over, "I bought a shit ton of booze that month."

Taylor must have caught Sarah's look of grudging respect, because she smiled again. This time a more relaxed smile. She poured whiskey in a glass and slid it to Sarah.

"Here little mouse. That beer piss ain't gonna do shit for you. Drink up. Unless you're too much of a lightweight?"

Sarah watches the drink and scowls softly at the taunt. Did she think that Sarah was some kid trying to fit it?

Taylor went on without a care in the world. "It's fine you know? I get it. Good girls up in the States only drink milk, yes?" She turns to the barman, "Hey Bob! Get little mouse here a glass of—"

Sarah didn't know why. She just slammed her arms on the countertop and picked the glass, some of it spilled as she brought it to her mouth and downed it in one go.

On her side Taylor was watching with amusement and Alec whooped.

"Bob you dick! Bring us all the booze you got!" The crowd cheered and started betting. Sarah forgot about the kidnapping and the guns. For that one moment she was Ok. And that Taylor bitch? Sarah consoled herself that at the very least, she'd give the psycho a good ole headache by the time the sun came up again.

Brian stands by a payphone and talks with Piggot when an old American muscle car erratically drives by. It's filled with men, and he can see AK-47s resting on their shoulders. In that one moment everything slows down and Brian turns his neck to watch them pass him by. They stop a block down, in front of Somer's rock.

'Fuck' he mutters to himself when the driver lops a grenade inside. The front of the store explodes. Bodies fly out mixed with debry. Shattered tables and and screams mix with the city's usual cacophony.

He didn't even get to have a drink…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Everyone is still sitting and enjoying themselves when the metallic click-clack rings in Sarah's ears. It's faint, almost no one notices except for the few who were facing the entrance. Sarah is just turning, more curious about the screeching tires outside. Alcohol makes her vision swim, and the horrors of yesterday are almost faint. In the corner of her eye she catches Taylor's wide eyed expression, and her power kicks in immediately.

 _Danger_. _Grenade, three seconds to detonation._

It whispers, and Sarah launches herself over the counter top. Bob — the barman – looks defeated and is swearing under his breath, a cigarette tucked in the corner of his mouth. And then the grenade goes off.

Sarah's ears are ringing. She feels nauseated. Up and down make no sense. Her eyes roll around in their sockets. She smells smoke, but it's mixed with the smell of churning human flesh. Sarah faintly recollects a documentary, it makes sense that it smells like pork.

Someone is dragging her by the arm, and her eyes fall on Alec who is sipping his Bacardi, cool as a cucumber. Gunshots echo all over the place, Sarah flinches at the sound of Taylor's gun.

Alec says something, she can't hear his words, but her power mercifully fills the ringing. He wants to escape from the back entrance. Go where the car is. But what about...?

"What about _her_?" she says and trusts her tongue to deliver the sound. Alec shoots her a look she can't quite decipher. It's more of a condescending sort of fondness mixed with exasperation. Only it looks like he's saying, 'Are you fucking serious?' instead.

They are sticking close to the floor, underneath the smoke, and they have just reached the exit when he points back inside. Taylor is dashing around. She is everywhere, does everything. Sarah's eyes can barely follow the psycho, a bullet there, a stab here. And there's an arm flying, Sarah's power points out that the amount of limbs in the bar are an odd number with one over. Then it goes on a tangent and tells her that either a body was disintegrated or that someone was carrying an extra arm on their person.

Then it clarifies that someone was carrying an extra fucking arm on their person.

Sarah bites her lower lip and draws blood to stop the odd tangent. She can't even bring herself to feel disgusted. Meanwhile Taylor is still shooting, still killing and maiming. She doesn't scream as she always does. She's methodical, smart, hides in people's blind spots, efficiently dispatching everyone she registers as a threat.

 _No enjoyment. No dissatisfaction. Adrenaline induced - biological responses nominal. Dissociation? Likely —_

Sarah clamps down on her power again. She doesn't want to know. She doesn't! If she learns, if sees…

She won't be able to look back, and she will empathize, and if she does that…

 _Likely suicidal tendencies. — …_

Stop! Stop! Shut the fuck up… Sarah wants to scream but she's on that boat heading to her death and Reggie is pointing his gun at her, and underneath the fog and cold, his eyes glisten with untold glee.

He pulls the trigger.

 _...Considers herself dead._

In the fire underneath the smoke she keeps moving to the door, and as she looks to her left, where the fighting is, a man flies in the bar.

It's the feeling of fire in her chest that always gets to her. The smells, the colors. They are always a bit _more._ The screeching tires groan on the hot asphalt slow the world down. There is a commotion already and she can _feel_ the anticipation in her gut building up. Like a valve that's been filling up for years and is now ready to release. So Taylor stands up. She tries to put a smile on her face, but she's too annoyed to even pretend at the moment. All she wanted was to drink, and get over her fuckup with the mouse.

Brian was livid, she knew. Even though he didn't yell or scowl at her. They were long past mysteries with one another. She knew that this one vein on his forehead twitches when he is ready to blow a gasket. He always sighs when he's annoyed. She takes another sip of her drink and then downs it with gusto.

The grenades fall on floor.

Taylor recognizes the model. Good quality. Not American. She doesn't have to pretend anymore. No thinking other than instincts and the dance of death. She's waiting for the music to stop, and maybe this time, there won't be a chair to sit when it stops.

Her eyes scan the room, she kicks a table before they hit the floor for a second time and they get knocked farther away from her. Taylor ducks behind a table and her ears groan at the familiar sound. The pressure hits her like a punch to the gut, but even that is familiar and so she doesn't lose her focus.

Men rush into the bar and they start shooting. Spraying really, because they don't care if they hit anyone, they aren't even aiming. She pulls her guns and starts shooting, Jamie falls down on her feet. The familiar sight of a puppet with its strings cut greets her.

Taylor knew Jamie, he hit on her once. Kinda funny. He bought her drinks whenever he was too drunk to be afraid of her. Nice guy.

Now he was a dead guy.

Jamie's ticket valid and long since punched: _'one way – no return – to Helsinki!_ '

Taylor jumps to the side, the bullets follow her and she mentally counts them. The first invader is about to run out, he looks down at his weapon and Taylor pulls the trigger.

His comrade/buddy/teammate looks at him with somber eyes, she shoots another round.

The third guy is tricky. He's moving and his eyes roam the place. Their eyes meet and he hides behind a corner. Taylor scowls and starts running towards him when something hits her from the left. She gasps for air, and huge arms are locking her in a bearhug. Taylor tries to kick. Guy number three takes the shot, but Taylor is clamps her thighs on the parahuman's neck. She tries to twist him to the floor but he doesn't budge an inch. A brute – she suspects.

She doesn't wait. Her shoulder gets pulled when she jumps off of the man. She's on the floor again. Her neck twists a little and she gets a look of him. He's ripped and about six feet tall. Hispanic. His eyes track her down and he floats a little.

He grabs her foot while he floats and she has no leverage to pull him down. She struggles to move, but he won't let her. A loud whistle echoes behind them, and Taylor recognizes Regent, the man's arms twitch violently and Taylor can finally move. She falls on her knees and picks up her gun.

The man tries to kick her in the spine. Break her in half. Taylor rolls away fluidly and cocks the gun. Their eyes meet and the man smiles. A condescending smile, almost a sneer.

She shoots him in the throat.

Taylor twists and rolls among the bodies and debris. There's calmness in this chaos. The parahuman stops writhing and starts hovering again. The smile still plastered on his lips.

Taylor wants to scowl, because he's one of those…

"I was hoping for a relaxing night of booze until you fuckers ruined it."

He gives her a charming smile, "My apologi—" She shoots him in the neck again.

The man doesn't fall down like before. Instead he gurgles and Taylor realizes he's laughing. The hole knits itself back together and Taylor is already running, some of his men start shooting at her and she blindly shoots back.

" _People who brag or monologue. You shoot them. Twice. Bullets are a dime a dozen. No matter the aim or power, you hit them once? Shoot that little bitch twice. Just to be sure."_

Mr K's voice rings in her ears and she smiles. The man has floated ahead of her and is blocking the exit, "Now that wasn't ver—"

She shoots him in the chest. Twice. Then another bullet in his throat. She debates on killing him, but she's all out of bullets. Instead she pulls out her knife and stabs it through his shoulder and into the floor. There are shots heading her way and so she runs off into the alley behind the bar.

Their car is writhed in black smoke and when she walks into it, and sits in the car she starts laughing.

They have made it halfway to the docks when Brian speaks up, "We're going back out to the sea. I've spoken with Piggot and she'll meet us tomor...—today at thirteen hundred."

"Any idea what happened back at Somer's?" Taylor asks.

"Guys looked Mexican to me. " Alec chimes in.

Brian nods, "Yes, Piggot said they are trying to get a foothold in the city. Something to do with the data on the stick. Anything you want to share Sarah?"

Sarah winces, "They work with Gesellschaft. Heinz & Heinz wants to sell a chunk of Grand line territory north of Brockton. The Cartels own a chunk of land near the U.S border. Mexico has barely any control in its territory. I think that Gesellschaft struck some sort of deal with the Cartels. Drug trade would be a lot cheaper if they could smuggle unhindered into the Americas. I assume that this Piggot or whoever, doesn't want this to happen?"

Taylor speaks up, "No, there's something else at play here. Piggot doesn't give a flying fuck about Grand line territory. What would happen to H&H if the info went public?" She asks.

"The head honchos would be tried for treason? Stocks would definitely crash and burn. But in the end H&H is a multibillion dollar industry by itself, no serious long term damage. Unless this _Piggot_ wants to—" her eyes widen.

"Shut up." Brian hisses under his breath and the car goes silent, "Don't finish that thought. Not our business. We are just delivery boys."

"Ofcourse." Sarah scowls, "Just kidnap people on the side." she murmurs but they ignore her.

"...And my employee?" Gustav Kraus asks. The woman on the other side of the line chuckles.

"What of her?" she asks.

"She is… _useful._ " The file is opened on his desk. The parahuman status noted down, her spout of recent efficiency and her projects. Losing her wouldn't really be a problem in any capacity. Still, he couldn't allow some backwater thug to play him like a fiddle.

"So? She's a risk"

"Heinz & Heinz isn't in the business of murder Miss Piggot. The company is deeply ashamed of Mister Simmon's missconduct, and we are willing to pay the price of our mistakes. But for the price you're asking, you better be able to provide Miss Livsey alive and well."

The woman laughs again, a slow guttural sound almost a growl, "You should call your superiors and inform them of our deal. I'll meet you tomorrow, my men will pick you up at the airport."

Kraus growls, "You are playing with fire woman, don't wonder why, when everything crumbles around you."

The line clicks and Kraus is left in his silent office.

They arrive at the docks by the crack of dawn. The sea is calm and looks like oil as it refracts the first spots of light. Sarah's head hurts and she just wants to go to bed. Instead Brian stops abruptly.

The woman is bulky. Short and wide, blonde hair tied up in a bun and an austere look on her scarred face. Brian pulls the window down, "I thought we wouldn't see you until noon."

She smiles, and Sarah is reminded of a Rottweiler right then, "Won't need to. The data?"

Brian pulls the stick out of his pocket and gives it to her. The woman's eyes meet Sarah's, "Miss Livsey, I assume?" the question was unneeded. _Just being polite,_ her power informed her. She only nodded in response.

"I am sorry you were pulled in all of this. Sadly, we have to decide where to go from here…"

Carlos is starstruck. His body tingles all over. He's all hot and bothered.

He is choking on his blood and he can feel his lungs wrap around his heart. They start pumping blood while his heart heals. It's nothing he never felt before, but as always the pain is a bit annoying. The fact that he would have to find someone to remove the slugs out of him, and probably _pay_ them? And he would pay them, because killing your doctor is bad form.

He crosses his head, lips, and heart, "En el nombre del Padre y del Hijo, y del Espíritu Santo. Amén."

Those eyes, that sneer.

Empty. Empty. Empty!

And she was a normal human! Damaged beyond repair. Just like him. In that lab, he became like this. He saw the same look when he looked at the doctors then. Reflected in their eyes as he crushed them. And she looked at him like _that._ Only she didn't really care if he lived or died. And to think! To think that Gonzales had to convince him to return to his hometown?

Glorious.

He shudders as he stands up. His entire team is lying dead and the bar they attacked is being consumed in fire. God intended for this meeting, Carlos _knows_. A savage grin pulls his lips apart.

Carlos takes off his clothes. He finds a guy who kinda looks like him, not as handsome of course, but god has a plan for everyone. He asks for forgiveness as he steals the clothes and dresses the corpse with his own. He empties his wallet of cash and throws it in the fire alongside his cellphone. A small hum plays on his lips as he walks out and into the masses.

 _It was time to move back, after all. God wanted it this way._


End file.
